


No Man's Land

by becisvolatile



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becisvolatile/pseuds/becisvolatile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is just about ready to declare the middle of the bed a 'no man's land'. </p><p>Natasha is okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Man's Land

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a series of fics for the Darcy Lewis Smut Week Challenge. Also known as 'Darcy gets it on with all of the Avengers because I say so' Week. The prompt chosen for this was 'Sharing a bed'. Just a heads up for those more accustomed to my het fic: this is porny femslash. Thanks for reading!

Icy cold toes settled up against the back of Darcy's calves and she was struck with the desire to deliver a swift heel to Natasha's shin. 

This was the worst safe house ever. What sort of safe house made people share beds? 

And while she was on the subject, sharing a bed with a master assassin? Didn't actually overwhelm her with feelings of _safeness_. Just because Coulson had cheerily proclaimed that sharing a bed with an Avenger made her 'the safest gal in SHIELD's subterranean lair' did not make it so. Especially not when Clint had watched the entire exchange with a ticking jaw, as if something about the arrangement was beyond amusing. 

Still, even Darcy had to confess that it could be worse. She, like Clint, could be the one sharing a bed with the Hulk (or at least his mild-mannered offsider). Of course she'd be willing to bet that Bruce didn't have cold toes and, really, how angry could someone get while in bed anyway? Bed was Darcy's happy place, usually. 

It was just that Natasha kept dispatching her freezing toes on undercover incursions into Darcy's half (okay, _third_ ) of the bed and as Natasha wriggled her freezing toes once more, Darcy was just about ready to jump up and declare the middle of the bed 'no man's land'. 

Instead, Darcy simply shuffled a little closer to the edge of the bed. 

Ten frigid toes followed her through the sheets. 

It was too much for Darcy to put up with. "Okay, what gives?" Darcy sat up, crossed her legs and peered thorough the dark at the Natasha-shaped lump. "Your feet are fucking freezing and they're on _my_ side of the bed." 

"Mmm, just trying to find a little warmth," Natasha replied. Funny, but she didn't _sound_ like someone who had just been rudely awoken by a crazy lady. Actually, she sounded pretty damn sharp for someone who had been asleep just moments earlier. 

"It's nine PM and super spies don't go to bed until at least eleven," Darcy waved her finger through the dark, "So you clearly haven't come down here to sleep." 

The bed shifted as Natasha sat up. "And you're here to sleep? I thought you just threw a tantrum because you found out we don't have cable." 

It was true. "Okay, just to make my point clear: how much of a 'safe house' can it be if you constantly want to kill yourself just to end the intense boredom?" 

There was a pause and Darcy nervously peered into the dark, trying to work out what was happening. Natasha's voice came, much closer, much softer than expected. "I could entertain you, Darcy." 

It occurred to Darcy in that moment how little she knew of Natasha. She knew what everybody thought they knew of the Black Widow, she saw the polish, felt the chill. But Natasha? 

It made a perfect sort of sense. 

"Just before I embarrass myself," Darcy sat up and kicked the covers off, "Can I confirm that you aren't offering to play Yahtzee?" 

"I play enough games, Darcy. This is just... for me." Agile fingers tugged at the leg of her flannel pyjama pants. 

For Darcy it wasn't a question of whether she could be with a woman, she simply asked if she could be with Natasha, whose leans lines and harsh smoulder were slipping to allow for a glimpse of something softer, more personal... and just insanely fucking sexy. 

Darcy moved a fraction of a second before Natasha, the two colliding in an artless kiss that had Darcy's mouth clashing open and wet against Natasha's throat. Natasha wasted no time in releasing the drawstring of her pyjama pants and something in Darcy hummed with heat at the thought that Natasha knew what she wanted, had perhaps wanted it for some time. 

Darcy wasn't certain on the etiquette of being with another woman, but she was happy to let desire and impulse drive her hands to the soft hem of Natasha's shirt and help her slip it off. Her hands found their way to high, firm breasts and the thrill of it sent a slick throb of anticipation to her pussy. 

She'd always found the male obsession with her boobs to be a source of amusement, but now that she had her hands on a rather spectacular set, she kind of got it. One pair of boobs was okay, two sets? Wicked. Her thumbs grazed over Natasha's nipples, which hardened in delightful response. Darcy straddled the trim curve of Natasha's waist and dropped her mouth down for a long, wet, exploration of her breasts. 

"You're a quick study, Darce," she gasped as her fingers glanced over the soft skin between her thighs to press into the slick dip of her pussy. Darcy tried to widen her knees to allow better access but found herself caught up on her pants. She gave a small cry of frustration before drawing back to haul her pants off and, while Natasha did the same, yank off her top. They came back together, both utterly naked, soft, feverishly hot and ready to rock. 

It was Natasha's turn to drive, in a neat little manoeuvre she tucked her fingers behind Darcy's knees and applied just the slightest pressure to her bare shoulder. It was enough to flip Darcy onto her back, leaving her there with her knees inelegantly splayed as her breasts bounced with the impact. Natasha's hand darted out to flick on the bedside lamp and Darcy was flooded with soft light. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make her mindful of how exposed she was. It was one thing to fool around in the dark, but with Natasha's halo of curls falling around her shoulders and brushing over her breasts, her sharp eyes lust-softened and her red lips parted and quivering with quick shallow breaths, Darcy was struck with just how very _real_ and foreign the whole scenario was. 

She tried to snap her knees shut, only to find Natasha dropping herself down low between them. "Not a chance," she muttered against the silken skin of Darcy's inner thigh. "I've called in every favour that Clint owes me to keep him away tonight." She traced her tongue from thigh to - 

"W-wait, Clint wanted... you?" Christ, it was hard to talk with her tongue slowly tracing that spot where thigh met the plump lips of her pussy. 

Natasha looked up at Darcy and parted her soft bare skin, "He wants," she darted her tongue out against Darcy's soaked flesh, " _This_." 

Darcy's hips bucked and she wrapped a leg around her with one foot came up to rest against the upper curve of Natasha's arse. Clint could want whatever he chose, it made no difference, that night was just for the girls. And she seriously doubted that Clint could display a fraction of the mastery that Natasha was rocking. Darcy's fingers speared into her tumble of red curls, fingertips stroking and encouraging as Natasha's tongue began a wickedly thorough exploration of her pussy. 

A lame sort of whimper escaped Darcy's throat. It should have been awkward, Darcy wasn't really an 'oral on the first date' kind of girl, but here she was fucking _begging_ Natasha to keep going. She felt as if her entire body had been electrified, an endless loop of heat and energy hummed through her limbs, building on each pass and just as she felt she was about to shatter she felt two delicate but calloused fingertips slip into her and zero in on _that spot_ with calculating precision. Natasha pressed up then and let her lush lips brush and suckle Darcy's clit. She came then, hard. Darcy groaned a surprised 'Holy shit' and rode out the most intense climax of her life under the dedicated ministrations of Natasha's talented mouth. 

Natasha didn't stop until Darcy's thighs and stomach were only shaking with minor tremors, as opposed to the spine bending force that had ridden her throughout her orgasm. Darcy cracked a single eye and watched as Natasha withdrew her fingers with a wicked curl and brought them up to her mouth. 

Once, Darcy had caught Steve in a towel and still she'd rank the sight of Natasha sucking her fingers into that insanely beautiful mouth of hers as approximately a million fucking times hotter. Even with her body still humming, her limbs felt too heavy to move so Darcy simply crooked a finger and dropped her leg from Natasha's back. 

"Gonna need you up here, scary lady," Darcy murmured as she watched Natasha move up the length of the bed to kneel beside her shoulder. In the soft light, Natasha's body was a work of fucking art. Womanly curves moulded to functional muscle and Darcy realised that Natasha had a killer body - in every sense. "Kind of figured you'd kill me before morning." 

"But what a way to go," Natasha murmured as Darcy reached out to pet the small strip of manicured curls between her thighs. Darcy wiggled her fingers, delving lower, deeper and she was ridiculously pleased to find Natasha so wet that even the skin high between her thighs was glistening with the evidence of her arousal. 

"So I'm, like, 83 per cent certain that I can't support my own bodyweight right now, so I'm going to need to you get up here," Darcy tapped at her mouth with her spare hand, while her fingers continued to stroke and tease Natasha. 

"You know how many men have died between my legs?" Natasha posed the question quietly while stroking the inside of Darcy's wrist. 

"Mmm, lucky them. Now, please." Darcy pointed to her mouth again, drawing her fingers away. 

Natasha gripped at the bed head, her knees settling onto the pillow either side of Darcy's head as she slowly brought herself to hover above Darcy. They were a little past being polite, so Darcy felt pretty damn comfortable digging her fingertips into her hips and pulling down as she arched up, lips and tongue searching. The taste of salt and woman dissipated in her tongue as she caught the scent of orange blossom and high end moisturiser. 

What Darcy lacked in experience with other women she made up for with sheer enthusiasm and, well, the simple fact that she _was_ a woman too. She let her fingers run up and down Natasha's thighs, marking what made her thighs tense, what made them go lax... What pleased and what _really_ pleased. It had never occurred to her how much she'd enjoy this, how much she'd revel in each sigh and gasp wrest from Natasha's throat. Darcy grew bold, her tongue moving deeper, slipping from her clit to circle the tight entrance of her pussy, once, twice, then a teasing dart. Natasha drove down then and it was all the encouragement that Darcy needed to work her to climax while she rocked her hips and ran her hands up her ribcage and over her breasts. 

Natasha dropped back down beside Darcy, flushed and breathing hard. 

In the silence that followed they both settled back into bed. Darcy pulled up the bedding sated, sleepy and unsure what to say. Minutes passed and Darcy felt Natasha shift, it seemed only natural when she felt her cold feet dart across the space between them to shift onto her side and let Natasha's feet settle between her calves where they stayed throughout the night, the warming contact the only echo of what they'd shared.


End file.
